#cassiopeter

"Double or nothing?"

Peter’s hand was absolute trash. He'd always had the worst luck with card games. Granted, he was the kind of dad to let his kid win card games anyway, but it seemed like Frankie didn't need his mercy with the way Peter's luck worked. Frankie stared his dad down through narrowed eyes, trying to get a good read on him, but the one thing Peter had to his advantage in card games was his poker face. “Allow me to consult with my colleague for a moment,” he said carefully, putting the cards down and turning to talk with one of his twin brothers. Peter rolled his eyes playfully and covered them with his hands, per the rules they'd agreed upon when playing with nonspeaking players like Benjamin. It's not exactly possible to whisper in sign language.

Playing games with kids that had powers was harder than Peter had expected. Benjamin was an empath, capable of picking up on people’s emotions preternaturally and very specifically, unless you were talented enough to know how to block him. It took a few years, but Peter finally learned how to keep Ben’s empathy from giving away his strategy. Things hadn't been quite so easy for their other boys. Harry was clairvoyant, capable of seeing the future, and seemingly able to get info on demand. For that reason, he'd been barred from playing card games with the other twins. Luckily for him, however, his younger brother Thomas was able to manipulate probabilities, effectively changing which cards he would draw or someone else would put down. Their powers seemed to balance each other out, so they played with each other or in teams against each other. Peter figured it would be like that for a couple more years until they'd be mature enough not to manipulate the game, at which point, they could finally play family games together. He didn't want there to be any fights while they were still young; UNO was chaotic enough as it was.

It took Ben and Frankie a few minutes to talk out the situation, debating what their stakes were and what Peter’s motivations for doubling down might be. Peter always found it adorable how much his sons overthought things, especially given how young they were—the triplets were six, Thomas was five, and they had a surprise baby girl on the way—but he couldn't say he didn't know where it came from. Two anxious parents seemed to make anxious babies. It could be comforting, sometimes, knowing how much they thought everything through; he was less worried they'd end up in bad situations and be too afraid to call him or Peia to get themselves out. If they thought this much about card games, he was pretty sure they were on their way to being good, respectable men in a few years. Having a baby sister would probably only further that.

After a few minutes of debate, Frankie spoke up to let Peter know he could open his eyes again, apparently moving on to the interrogation part of things. Frankie squinted at his dad again, looking like the villain in an old Western movie about to shoot the hero. “Are you doubling just because you wanna take all our candy?” he asked seriously. Beside him, Ben folded his arms, mimicking his brother’s serious stare.

“I don’t know. Am I?” Peter challenged.

“Get a read on this guy, Ben. I don't trust him,” Frankie told his brother. Peter couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from the phrasing. Ben looked at his dad, tilting his head for a moment thoughtfully before he seemed to reach a conclusion.

‘It doesn't seem like he cares about the candy. I think we're good,’ Ben signed.

“Go with what we talked about, then?” Frankie asked as he pushed all their candy into the pot.

‘Yeah.’

He started out strong, putting down a draw 2 card and skipping Peter’s turn. Ben played one of his cards before Frankie hit Peter with a skip; then it was a 3 followed by a reverse, sending it back to Ben before Peter had a chance to put even a single card down. Ben played a skip. Thoughtful though they may be, it appeared that Peter’s kids had absolutely no mercy for him. Frankie put down a 5, followed by Ben’s reverse, followed by (somehow) yet another skip. Peter felt the need to ask, “Did you guys have Thomas stack the deck?” Both boys shook their heads, and they seemed honest enough. Peter was pretty good at determining when they were lying, given that they took more after him than their mother. Besides, Thomas had been pretty engaged in a long game of chess with Harry.

Peter thought he might have a chance in the next round when it finally got to him, following Ben’s 8 and Frankie’s 4. He played a reverse; Frankie played a 6 and said uno, Ben played a 3 and signed uno, and it was back to Peter, who still had eight cards. Yes, he would let his sons win, but that didn't mean he wouldn't at least try not to lose horribly. He put down a draw four and watched the stark raving glee form on Frankie and Ben’s faces. Apparently, this had gone exactly the way they planned. Thanks to the house rule of stacking draw cards, Frankie and Ben both played draw fours, going out and sending it back to Peter, who didn't have any more draw cards even if his boys hadn't just absolutely kicked his ass. They immediately started scooping the candy towards themselves with the kind of joy usually reserved only for holidays involving presents. Peter was somewhere between amused, impressed, and mildly betrayed.

“Alright, new rule,” he laughed, stealing an Airhead from the pot as his dad tax, “You guys can only gang up on me if we’re playing with Mom. That way, it at least has a chance at being fair.”

‘Fine. But if we kick your butt again, you can't steal any more of my Airheads.' Because they had the same taste in candy, Ben had always hated the dad tax the most. Peter shrugged.

“Dad tax. You can't get rid of that, unless you're saying you don't want a dad.” It was a ridiculous thing to even joke about, though the boys took it as seriously as they take everything else.

“Well, you and Mama don't have dads, and you turned out just fine!” Frankie argued. Peter’s jaw dropped.

‘Frankie, don't be like that. We’re not getting rid of Dad over Airheads.'

“Thank you for that, though I will start sleeping with a knife under my pillow, just in case,” Peter joked.

‘It would have to be over something much bigger. Like letting us be Spider-Men.’

“…but if Dad’s gone, then who’s supposed to train us to be Spider-Men?” Frankie asked.

‘Grandpa Tony would, duh! He trained Dad to be Spider-Man, so I'm sure he could train us.’

“Why are you talking about getting rid of your father?” Peia asked, walking into the room and immediately wrapping an arm around her husband’s shoulders. He smiled up at her, his arm immediately latching onto her waist. “I'm gone for ten minutes, and I come back to you two conspiring against your dad.”

“He started it!” Frankie insisted, though he was blaming Peter rather than Ben.

‘Dad stole my Airhead and said the only way to get rid of the dad tax was to get rid of him,’ Ben explained.

“Oh?” she chuckled, looking at Peter, who shrugged in his seat.

“Poor choice of words, I guess.”

“And I guess it's time for them to learn about mom tax. It’s heftier.”

Peia plucked the only York patties out of the pile and stuck one in her pocket, promptly unwrapping and eating the other. Frankie fell from his chair to his knees on the floor, distraught, letting out a loud wail of “NOOOOOOOO!” Like his mom, his favorite candies had always been the ones with mint.

‘I think what he means is, you’ve just declared war,’ Ben signed, trying his best to look serious despite his brother’s silliness. Peia took it as an invitation, sitting down and shuffling the cards for another round.

“You're on,” she promised. She dealt seven cards to everyone and ate the other York patty while Frankie found his way back to his seat, still moping about his loss. Of course, there were more she could give him later.

‘Are we playing teams or singles?' Everyone still got their own hand, either way, so it was more like a ‘best of three’ situation than ‘who goes out first’.

“With your dad’s luck, I think it should be teams,” Peia laughed.

“How much are we betting? Ben and I have ten pieces each.” Frankie re-checked his count, then adjusted according to what Peia had taken: “Well, eight. And I guess Ben has nine, thanks to dad tax.”

‘I'm willing to bet anything but my other Airhead. And Dad can't have that one!' Ben said quickly, stuffing it in his pocket to protect it from Peter, who laughed. It would've been safe, anyway; Peter had never really liked the orange ones, though they were Ben's favorite. Peia smiled at her boys, getting back to the hand at play.

“Double or nothing?”

(Bonus: some UNO memes I found while perusing Pinterest to make my edit. The last one is 110% Frankie just before putting down his own draw 4)